Desert Song
by disenchanted fangirl
Summary: Life Kind of sucks when you're all on your own or when your in the middle of a desert, in a pretty much apocalyptic world locked in an attic for seven years... MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE DANGER DAYS
1. Prologue

_**okay! This is my first fan fiction and it will probably suck, but for the few of you (if any at all) I feel obligated to say that I own nothing. If i owned My Chemical Romance, they wouldn't have broken up and all that jazzy jazz shit. I only own the plot and my OC's. I hope you enjoy my shitty story.**_

_**- A**_

_**(I enjoy using the word shit... Oops)**_

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Have you ever felt like you're alone? As if you're completely hidden from the rest of the world? Welcome to my life. The name is Frances. (Means free in Latin, but right now I am everything but free) My father, whom most of you tumbleweeds know, actually, is Dr. Death Defying. He houses the Fabulous Killjoys; Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, Jet Star, and Kobra Kid. Dr. D calls me by my Killjoy name, Party Girl, which has been my nick name due to my un-godly obsession with the song Party Girl, which was composed by U2.I was fifteen when the bombs hit. My mother and brother didn't make it out of the city. It was just me and my father; we wandered the desert for a while, and Walah! Here we are. But for all the Killjoy's know, I never existed.

* * *

I currently live in a crummy attic above my father's room. There's a broken mirror, a crappy mattress with blankets that are full of holes, a broken bedside table, and a small broken vanity. There was a window, but it's boarded up. I am currently twenty-two years old. My father smuggles me food, and water, and recently, he smuggled me some clothes and hair-dye. I have purple hair with pink streaks. He brought me a purple crop top. (I may or may not have written look alive, sunshine on it…) you can see my pale colored abs when I wear this shirt. He also brought me a pair of black jean short shorts where you could see the pockets and a ripped pair of hot pink fish tights and glove lets. With this wear my knee high black chuck-tailors, which are splattered with pink and purple paint. I thought I looked pretty bad ass in this "outfit", but I wouldn't know. I only see my father about once or twice a week, depending if the Killjoys were out or not. I'm allowed to come down at night when whoever is on guard is asleep. (It's usually Fun Ghoul) during this free time, I usually take some food and watch the Killjoy's sleep. I know, I'm pulling an Edward. I know I'm creepy. I particularly enjoy watching Party Poison sleep; I may or may not be falling head-over-heels for him… I know, I am such a stalker. I really haven't had any human interaction in the last seven years. Maybe one day I'll meet them. God, Party Poison will think I'm such a creeper. I can only imagine our first conversation.

"_Hi, I'm Party Poison._"

"_Yeah, I know. I watch you sleep_."

Not very good, I know. But i won't ever meet him, because my father condemned me to my attic. He told me something along the lines of "_M'dear, this way those vampires will never hurt you._" At the time I didn't complain. i mean, my mother and brother just died and i was a terrified fifteen year old in the middle of an apocalyptic situation. The attic sounded like a pretty excellent idea to me at the time. I knew how to shoot a ray gun if I had to. But, that was seven years ago, I am now twenty-two and I want my freedom, and Dr. D knows it. Someday, I might just see the sun again; and maybe, just maybe, I will be able to see the Killjoys' faces, awake and unafraid.


	2. Chapter 1

**H**ello** my lovely, non-existent readers. So hopefully, if you're actually reading the authors note, you are enjoying the tale so far. I OWN NOTHING blah blah blah ... Here's the story. **

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CHAPTER 1: _F__ace all the pain and take it on_

The past week was normal for the most part. I had my Power Pup for breakfast, and I was still starving. Don't let my 5'5'' skinny body fool you; because ladies and gentle men, this girl can eat. This week was also relatively boring too. I drew in my ratty leather-bound sketch book, picked up the garbage, was being a creeper, was listening to the Killjoy's conversations, and did other boring stuff like that. Their conversations were usually serious until Fun Ghoul cracked a terrible joke. Until that interesting day, it was normal for the most part for me. Then at around noon, I guess, I heard the Dracs come. I don't honestly remember what Dracs actually look like. I then heard gun shots being fired, I think by my father. He was yelling some explicative and something about 'take me instead'. After that, he yelled,

"COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE!"

I instantly knew he was talking to me. I quickly grabbed my dusty ray gun off my vanity, a piece of paper and a pencil. My father taught me how to forge his handwriting; I swear he was a con artist or something. I wrote a note addressed to the Killjoys'. The basic jest of it was I was kidnapped by Dracs, you will find something to help you in the attic. I the quietly opened the hatch, and went to the kitchen. I put the note on the old rustic counter and to my surprise, a little girl with mocha colored skin and dark, brown curly hair stood in the hallway leading back to Dr. Death's room. She was shaking and holding a steak knife.

"Hey there. It's alright, I'm a good guy. See?"

"Who-who are y-you?" She asked.

"Come with me." I said. I lead her too my room and I showed it to her.

"I'm Party Girl, Dr. Death's daughter. I'm twenty-two years old, and I haven't left this attic in 7 years." I told her. The poor girl. She looked less terrified but almost angry. I really had no idea. I haven't seen human emotion in 7 years or so.

"So, you left me with all the boys down there for three years? Party Girl, hmm. Like PARTY Poison?" she wiggled her eyebrows. I officially hated 11 year old girls. I blushed. Hopefully she didn't catch it.

"Nope! I've been Party Girl since I was four years old. It was my mom's nick name for me."

"Oh. But you left me with a bunch of smelly boys for three years."

"Yeah… sorry about that."

"Did you even know I existed?"

"No..." I said, "Did you know that I existed?"

"No! We can be Non-existent buddies!"

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Oh! Sorry, my name is Missile Kid. And I'm eleven."

"Hey, Missile, Don't tell the boys about me. I'm what the note is about. Let them find me."

She smiled.

"Anything for you, Party Girl. I won't tell Poison about how you like him either."

* * *

She hugged me. We then heard the Trans-Am pull in. We jumped. I quickly helped her get down. I closed my hatch and once again I was in solitude, but this time, I wouldn't be for long. I heard the engine of the car shut off and car doors slam. I heard men yelling and their footsteps, and then the door opened.

"POISON!" Yelled Missile, "DR.D WAS TAKEN! READ THIS." I think she shoved the note in his face then. I had no idea. I can hear what's going on not see. I figured he read the not, because three minutes later I heard paper shredding and fast footsteps moving down the hallway into Dr. Death's room. I grabbed my ray gun off the bed and hid behind it. The trap door moved and opened and I watched.

"Well, let's look. I wonder what Dr. Death hid up here. Wouldn't be something if it was a person?" said Fun Ghoul. The rest of them snorted. They didn't seem to understand the irony in that statement and were too stupid to look behind my bed, except for Jet Star, who was the one smart enough to find me.

"Well how do you do?" I asked. He snorted and I continued, "Party Girl, here, twenty-two years of age, Dr. Death's daughter. It's nice to meet you."

Technically, I've met them all before, in a weird, creepy, stalkerish sort of way.

"Jet Star." He said, extending his arm to shake my hand, "Guy's, I think I've found what we're looking for."

Ha-ha… U2 reference there, sorry, I'm obsessed. I stood up and smiled. My dream came true. I was able to meet the Killjoys while they were awake.

"Jet, who is this?" asked The Kobra Kid.

"I'm Party Girl, you know? Like the U2 song? _I know a girl a girl called Party, Party girl… _no… Screw that." I said. "I can also hear and speak so don't act like I'm not here!"

Missile ran up and hugged me. No one has hugged me in a long time. This is a big moment for me. But Party Poison and Fun Ghoul were looking at me like I did something wrong.

"Is there something on my face?"

"No!" they said simultaneously. HOLY COW! They were checking me out! What a nice way to say hello. (That is sarcasm) Kobra Kid however was looking at me with disdain. He spoke.

"So you've been up here for years and you never came down to help us?"

"Well, if you put it that way, yep!" Kobra Kid scowled at my words.

"Listen, Kobra Kid, yes I know who you are, I wasn't _allowed_ come down. That was my Fathers doing. He wanted to keep me safe; I was fifteen when it all happened. Fif-freaking-teen. He wanted to keep me safe. I can fire a ray gun, though I am a little rusty. It's been just me and my U2 obsession up here for seven years. So don't hate me." Yes, I did blush at admitting my U2 obsession. Under my bed, I have all their CD's. I don't look at them though, they remind me too much of my mother, who bought them for me.

"So that's where your name's from?" asked Party poison with a heart melting smirk.

"I've Been Party Girl since I was four. Did you seriously think I named myself after you?" I replied with equal sass in my voice. (Wait a second, was he flirting with me?)

"I like your outfit, Party Girl." Said Missile Kid, oblivious to what was going on, "It suits you. It's flirty and badass." She was so sweet.

"Thanks, Missile." I said.

"Where did you get 'em?" Asked Jet Star.

I heard Fun Ghoul muter something rude under his breath, and to be quite frank, I didn't give a shit.

"My father brought them for me. Fun Ghoul, if you have something to say to me like that, next time, make sure I can hear you clearly so I can have proof to support why I broke your nose."

I may be a little rusty with a gun, but I can through a mean punch when I am in trouble.

"Oh Ghoul," said Missile, "you just got ghosted, by a girl." Missile then hi-fived me. Oh- My-Freaking- God, how I love her so.

"Do you guys have any food? I know it's completely off topic, but I haven't eaten in a day and a half."

Missile grabbed my hand and literally pulled me down the trap door. We ran into the kitchen giggling in joy, I definitely was not giggling for the same reasons as Missile. The reasons for my over the top giggling was A) PARTY POISON KNOWS WHO I AM! EEP! B) HE TRIED TO FLIRT WITH ME! (I think… or hope) C) (The most important reason of all) I GET FOOD! Best day of my whole screwed up life.

* * *

The Killjoys had canned pears in stock, so naturally, the over sweetened pears that are oh-so-gross win over the nasty wet dog food in a can. Did I mention, Missile kid and I destroyed the pear eating time record? Then, Party Poison, Kobra Kid, Fun Ghoul, and Jet Star came down with leather-bound, old ratty book that was worn and tattered. I knew this book. It was my old photo album, I rarely looked at the picture, they brought back too many sad memories for me, my sketch book and my (almost) journal, if I did die, I wanted for people to at least acknowledge my existence. Oh, shit, they looked through it, THEY LOOKED THROUGH IT! My chance of ever pretending to not be a creeper creeperson is over.

"Missile Kid, why don't you look through some of my old clothes, I'll be up in a minute or so."

She seemed to understand that it wasn't a request; it was command and went up right away. These Killjoys had her trained pretty good. When we heard the trap door close I lead then outside, because I would know that all sounds lead to my attic.

"What did I do?" I asked with some sass in my voice.

They opened the book to the seventh or eighth page. On this page there was a picture of a family consisting of a young girl with long, naturally red hair, abnormally sun burnt cheeks, and freckle speckled cheeks. Next to the girl stood her mother. The girl was a carbon copy of her mother. In between the girl's mother and father, who looked nothing at all like the rest of the family, was her brother. The only genetic trait shared by the father and his children were their dark, warm chocolate-colored eyes. The girl was me, on my fourteenth birthday, at the United States of America's capitol building. That was the day after my mother let me get a cartilage piercing in my ear. I involuntarily brought my hand up to my ear to feel the hoop earring which was now in my ear.

"Who are these people?" asked Poison. I was officially trying to stop my body from going into uncontrolled sobs. My brother and Mother were killed in the bombings. He was just fourteen, he was so young. He risked his life to save me, and I didn't want to live, everyone hated me, because I was different, because I was beautiful, because I cared. But my mother believed in me, and she saved me and my father, because she cared. She was brave, like my brother. That's what possessed my father to keep me up there. He lost so much; he didn't want to lose me. I understood that. Okay. I'm losing it. I started cried in controllable sobs. My body was shaking, and I felt like crap. The Killjoy's exchanged nervous glances, and three left, except for Party Poison. I was still sobbing on the ground. I now, I'm so pathetic. Party Poison came over and sat next to me.

"Hey, it's okay…" he said. He started to rub my back, and I calmed down a little. I was still crying. I hugged him. I know. I know the guy in person for like thirty minutes and I'm hugging him. He stiffened up and hugged me back.

"It's alright Party Girl."

"The g-girl is, she-she's m-me." I said while crying. I wiped the tears that were running down my face with my hand.

"You look so different." He said, still rubbing my back.

"_What will you do when you grow up twentieth century young lady?" _ I said with a sad smile.

"Is that a poem or something?" asked Party Poison.

"_Will you sew a fine seam and spoon dappled cream under an apple tree shady? Or will you be a teacher in a dame's school and train the little dears? By the scientific rule, mental activity may strain the delicate female brain."_

"Party Girl, is that a poem?"

"_..In a bare attic room, cold as stone. Away from her family, huddled alone… she was ready now and the world was waiting."_

"Party Girl, will you please answer me?"

"That was m-my mother's f-favorite poem."

"What happened to her?"

"SHE'S DEAD! MY BROTHER AND MOTHER ARE DEAD! AND IT'S MY ENTIRE FAULT!" I screamed, and started sobbing again, "I KILLED THEM, POISON! I killed them!"

I sobbed. He pulled my head into his chest, warm and dry. I made a bloody mess of his short. By the time I calmed down a teensy bit, the shirt was soaked.

"Hey, it's not your fault, its BLInd's."

He just didn't seem to get it.

"It's all my fault. You don't g-get it. They went back to save m-me! And they did, but-but killed themselves in the process. It should've been me! It should've been me!"

"Everything happens for a reason. You either have good luck or bad luck."

I stopped crying.

"I don't believe in luck."

"Then what do you believe in?"

"I believe in God, though I haven't been to church in a good seven years or so." I smiled.

"So Party, Can I call you Party? What do you want to be a when you grow up, twentieth century young lady?"

"I want to be a killjoy." I smirked and playfully punched him in the shoulder.

"But that might strain the _delicate_ female brain" Said Poison.

"You shut up." I laughed.

"What's your name?"

"Party Girl? I told you!"

"No! I mean like name _name_."

"Goodness Poison! I'm not going to tell you! That's my secret!"

"Well then." He said and stood up. We must've been out here for a long time because the sun was now setting. He offered me his hand and I gladly took it to help me get up and I walked inside, with the book, not alone, not afraid.

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**I don't own the poem, that's not mine. the lines are clipped from Elizabeth Blackwell, like really, I'm not that creative. ;) **

**i will i'll try to update frequently, I've been busy with school (it's almost over! YAY! :D ) and the next chapter should be up with in the next week. **

**-A**

**(sorry for any grammatical errors, the only reason half the words are right in this is because of spell check, I can't spell for my life and I can't locate a grammatical error either...)**


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